


Gently Now

by 3988Akasha



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, bottom!Miles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:23:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3988Akasha/pseuds/3988Akasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a hard boarder patrol, Miles comes back with some issues and only Bass can help him work through them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gently Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Timid_Timbuktu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timid_Timbuktu/gifts).



> Because she always adores Bass, so I figured I'd give it a go.

Bass raised an eyebrow as he approached Jeremy, the sounds of swearing and shattering glass only increasing. Jeremy had an amused look on his face, but Bass could see the concern in the way he stood, the stiffness of his shoulders. They exchanged a knowing look because this wasn’t exactly the first time they’d heard Miles on a tear about something.

“How long has he been at it?”

Jeremy chuckled. “Half an hour.”

“Shit, and you didn’t call me sooner?”

“You were across town.”

Bass placed his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Clear the hall, but keep people posted outside the building.”

Jeremy nodded. “Good luck, sir.”

Bass walked into the room and immediately ducked, narrowly missing a piece of something as it flew past his head and shattered against the wall behind him. Miles didn’t seem to notice Bass had even come into the room, which was more concerning than the various projectiles Miles was launching. He knew Miles had been running a patrol on the western border, but he didn’t know the details. Miles’ current temper tantrum had pulled him from the meeting. The meeting Miles was meant to be in charge of, but instead, Miles was in their room destroying everything he could get his hands on. It was a good thing Bass had moved all the truly valuable and important pieces to a better location, one not subject to Miles’ moods.

“What the hell are you doing in here? Get out.”

Bass smirked. Clearly, his entrance hadn’t been as unnoticed as he’d thought. Bass leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he casually watched Miles prowl around the room, hunting for unbroken things to smash. There really wasn’t any point in leaving because he’d just be back in here, keeping Miles from doing anything _really_ stupid.

“I’m not kidding, Sebastian. Get out.”

“General Matheson.”

It was instantaneous, the way he froze, the way Miles just looked at him. Bass knew he wasn’t seeing him. Bass knew Miles was still on the field between the Monroe Republic and the Wastelands. He knew Miles was still seeing the bodies of their butchered men, the way the group had ambushed them in the middle of the night, the way they’d been filleted, some even had their heads on spikes. While not all the details had reached him, he knew enough to understand Miles’ mood. Miles was staring at him, his eyes wide, like he was frozen in place. Bass could see the way he was processing whether he was going to fight or flee, and Bass knew how bad it was out there. He didn’t need the rest of the report. He could see it all in Miles’ face, could read it in the lines of his body. Could see it in the shadows that lurked under Miles’ eyes.

“Take off your jacket.”

Miles blinked as his fingers began to automatically follow Bass’ instruction. Bass knew Miles couldn’t think of a reason to countermand the order, couldn’t think of a reason to _not_ do as he’d been told. His movements were robotic, but he was still blinking, even if it was a bit too rapidly to make Bass feel comfortable. When all the buttons were undone, Miles’ hands dropped back to his sides, as though he’d forgotten what the next step was.

“Take off your jacket.”

Miles blinked, but his hands didn’t move.

“I was – I was too late.”

Bass closed his eyes, hearing the pain in Miles’ voice like a knife to the gut. Miles understood casualties of war, he’d seen death and brutality, but he had some pretty intense self-imposed rules about it. He blamed himself when he wasn’t there to share in the men’s misery, when he arrived at a battle too late to help, to cause change. Sometimes even when he was on time the outcome was the same, but Miles didn’t lose it then because he understood. But now? This time? This time, Miles was too late and he would blame himself for the massacre.  

Miles was looking around the room again, Bass could feel his control on the situation slipping and he couldn’t allow that to happen. He couldn’t let Miles lose it, not again. He knew it would end badly for everyone. The last time, Bass hadn’t been strong enough, hadn’t really understood what to do, how to break Miles out of the dark headspace he put himself into and they’d almost gone to war…again. A war they couldn’t afford against an enemy they didn’t need.

Bass pushed away from the wall and moved in on Miles, forcing his eyes to track Bass’ movements. When he was just over an arm’s width away, Bass stopped, hands clasped behind his back.

“Take off your jacket.”

Miles liked his lips instinctively and slowly pulled his jacket off, letting it drop to the floor. Bass smiled internally, knowing he’d regained Miles’ attention. Not that it would be easy, but it was a start. Bass nodded slowly, Miles still watching all of his movements. He still hadn’t decided if he was going to fight or run or stay. Bass needed him to decide to stay. Bass walked over to the large chair they kept in front of the fireplace, pleased when he heard Miles following him. He paused long enough to take off his own jacket, settling it over the back of the chair before sitting down, legs spread, arms resting on arms.

Bass looked up at Miles, saw the way he was standing before him, shifting his weight from foot to foot, but Bass knew he wasn’t running. He might still fight, but Bass could deal with that. At least he wasn’t leaving. Bass crooked his finger, encouraging Miles to come closer. Bass smiled when Miles shuffled closer, eyes slowly darkening. Bass crooked his finger again, forcing Miles to make the choice, forcing Miles to decide that he wanted it. Miles leaned in, his hands landing on the outside of the armrest, his thumbs just grazing the edge of Bass’ arms. Miles moved his face in close to Bass, close enough to kiss and Bass leaned forward a bit, but remained just out of reach, their lips missing each other by centimeters as they pantomimed a kiss.

With a possessive smile, Bass reached out and grasped the back of Miles’ neck, holding him in position, knowing this would be the test. Knowing Miles could break out of the hold and then they’d fight, but he had to know how this would play out. He knew if they fought and he lost, they’d go to war anyway, but at least he would know he’d tried. Containing Miles was like trying to hold a hurricane at bay. Bass had to make Miles want to work out his emotions, hopefully without bloodshed. Miles closed his eyes and Bass tensed, but then he opened his eyes and Bass knew they weren’t going to war. At least, not today. He brought Miles face back in close, teasing Miles with a whisper of his lips against Miles’.

Bass trailed his hand down Miles’ torso, feeling the material of his shirt against his fingers. He could feel the way Miles trembled beneath his fingers, saw the way Miles’ fingers tightened on the arm rest. Bass moved his hand back to Miles’ body, needing to touch him, needing to ground him in something real. Miles moaned when Bass rand the back of his hand against Miles’ dick and he felt the way Miles’ hips canted forward, seeing more of the touch. Bass shimmied back in the chair, his eyes raking over Miles’ body, watching the way Miles looked at him.

“Take off your shirt.”

Miles stood up straight and took a small step back, eyes never leaving Bass. Bass knew he was the anchor, knew he was the only thing keeping Miles from going over the edge. It was a heady power he held over Miles. Miles reached behind him and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it on the ground with his jacket. Bass reached forward again, pulling Miles in against him, teasing Miles with the promise of a kiss. He could feel the heat of Miles’ body; feel the need in the way Miles leaned into him. When Miles ran his hand up Bass’ thigh, Bass forced himself to remain still. He couldn’t allow Miles to assume control. It was a trick Miles had used in the past and they’d lost a lot of men in the campaign that had followed. Bass moved Miles’ hand, put it back on the arm rest and shook his head. With his hands on Miles’ shoulders, Bass pulled him back in, keeping their faces close as he ran his hands over Miles’ torso, around his shoulders, down his arms.

He pushed Miles back and moved forward so he was sitting on the edge of the chair. It always amazed him, these moments between them. They were the few times Bass was allowed to truly indulge himself. He reached out and trailed is hand down Miles’ chest, Miles’ hand resting on top of his. It wasn’t an attempt to control the movement, it wasn’t an attempt to take over, it was just the need for touch and Bass looked up at Miles’ lidded eyes.

Bass leaned forward, his arm wrapped around Miles’ back, bringing his lips into contact with Miles’ flesh. He kissed Bass’ chest, his tongue swirling around Miles’ nipple. Bass moved his hand down to Miles’ ass, still keeping his lips on Miles’ chest, enjoying the way Miles’ flesh tasted beneath his tongue. He kissed his way down to the edge of Miles’ uniform pants, kissing the hallow of his hip, his tongue exploring the sensitive flesh. Miles hand clamped down on the back of Bass’ neck, keeping his face against Miles’ torso. Bass smirked against Miles’ flesh, like he’d move from his current position. He moved his tongue up the far side of Miles’ abdominal muscles, his tongue giving extra attention to Miles’ nipple, his teeth nipping at it teasingly. Bass continued to place wet kisses along Miles’ torso, his hand reaching down to cup Miles’ balls, feeling the way Miles rocked against him.

It was a slow torture for both of them. Bass was determined to have Miles lost on the sea of feeling, lost to everything except the feel of Bass body against his. Bass pushed Miles back a bit and leaned back in the chair again, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons on his sleeves before rolling them up to his elbows.

“Take off your pants.”

He watched Miles bend over and remove his boots before standing back up and shimming out of his pants, adding them to the rapidly growing pile of clothes. Miles toyed with the edge of his boxers, a tease all the time and Bass smiled as Miles pulled his boxers down and threw them on the pile.

“Show me your ass.”

Miles turned around and Bass bit his lip. He ran back of his hand down Miles’ spine, trailing it down over the globes of Miles’ ass, down the inside of his thigh, around his ankle, and back up to Miles’ ass. He felt Miles’ body tremble under his feather light touch. Bass palmed Miles’ ass with both hands, enjoying the way Miles’ head fell back. Bass took Miles’ hand and turned him around, running his hand up Miles’ arm, down his chest before having his hand flat against Miles stomach, his thumb stroking across Miles’ belly button. Bass put his hands on Miles’ hips and pulled him forward, forcing Miles to brace his hands on the edges of the chair. Their faces were close again, Bass loving the heavy lidded expression on Miles’ face. Their lips were nearly touching.

“Are you mine?” Bass whispered.

Miles met his eyes and tried to bring their lips together, but Bass held him back.

“Are you mine?”

Miles tilted his head to the side, his hand reaching out to stroke the side of Bass’ face. Bass nuzzled into the touch.

“Yes, sir.”

Bass met Miles’ eyes, saw the softness in his gaze. That look made it all worth it. He would do whatever he needed to do to put that look in Miles’ eyes.

“On your knees.”

Miles licked his lips as he moved to his knees, his eyes never leaving Bass’. Miles stayed on his knees, eyes on Bass’ and Bass ran his thumb over Miles lips, feeling Miles’ tongue poke out, but he moved his thumb before Miles could suck it into his mouth.

“Show me you’re mine.”

Miles moved his hands to Bass’ uniform pants and he palmed Bass’ dick. His eyes flicking between Bass’ face and his dick, as though he couldn’t figure out which he wanted to look at more. Miles leaned in, tried to kiss Bass, but Bass moved is head back, his lips just grazing Miles’ jaw. Miles’ hand continued to rub Bass’ dick teasingly, his hand never straying below the material. Bass smirked and undid his belt, pulling it through the loops of his trousers. Miles watched his hand. Bass wrapped the belt around Miles’ neck and pulled Miles in close. This was his favorite part, finally allowing Miles to kiss him, feeling Miles’ lips against his own. They devoured each other, their tongues stroking against his each other as they both tried to control the kiss, but Bass had the belt. He missed ties, but they weren’t practical for the uniforms so he’d learned to make do with the belts. He tightened his fist around the belt, forcing Miles to submit to his kiss, forcing Miles to receive the kiss, not give the kiss. Bass felt the moment Miles gave in, felt Miles’ body relax as he gave himself over to Bass’ care. He smiled and teased one of Miles’ nipples with his nail, swallowing Miles’ gasp with his kiss.

Bass pulled his dick out before using the belt to maneuver Miles mouth down to his dick. Miles moved his mouth on Bass’ dick, sucking it deep. Bass tightened his grip on the belt, while he began to unbutton his own shirt. Bass watched Miles’ lips wrap around the head of his cock, his tongue tracing around it before sucking him further down. It was incredible to have Miles on his knees, sucking his dick like a lollypop. Bass released his hold on the belt only to tangle his hand in Miles’ hair, liking the way it felt between his fingers. He understood why Miles so enjoyed running his fingers through Bass’ hair.

Miles’ tongue was talented and Bass needed to not come down Miles’ throat, no matter how badly he wanted to do exactly that. Instead, Bass used his grip on Miles’ hair to tug him to his feet, his dick sliding from Miles’ mouth.

“Show me that ass.”

Miles turned around and Bass moved forward in the chair. He reached underneath the cushion and pulled out the bottle of lube they kept there. In fact, there was lube hidden pretty much everywhere in their room because they never really knew what surface they’d end up on each night and it was annoying to have to go hunting for a lube in the moment. Bass slapped Miles’ ass, enjoying the way his palm tingled. He repeated the motion on the other cheek, hearing Miles’ sharp intake of breath. He poured some lube on his fingers and slowly pushed two of them in Miles’ tight hole. It never ceased to amaze him, the tightness of Miles’ ass, the way he was just relax as Bass’ fingers invaded him. He knew it must burn, knew he was stretching a bit too fast, but he knew it’s what Miles wanted, what Miles _needed_. He moved his fingers in and out quickly, spreading them as much as he could. He pulled them out with a wet sound and turned Miles to face him.

“Are you mine?”

Miles’ eyes were blown wide and his hair was a wild mess. Bass couldn’t think of something he’d rather be looking at and it was probably one of his favorite images of Miles. The one’s he’d store for the long nights when they were separated because of their duties to the State.

“Yes, sir.”

Bass stroked his cock, watching the way Miles’ eyes tracked his movements.

“Come show me.”

Something flashed in Miles’ eyes and Bass felt his stomach tighten in anticipation. He helped Miles position himself on Bass’ lap, hissed as Miles sunk down onto his achingly hard cock. Miles always lowered himself slowly and Bass had never been able to wrangle an answer out of him as to whether he did it to torture himself or Bass…so Bass settled on both. Once Miles was full seated on his cock, Bass placed his hands on Miles’ hips, encouraging Miles to set the pace.

Miles slowly lifted himself up until only the tip of Bass’ cock was inside before slamming back down on him. Bass winced internally, knowing how much that would burn, the sting of stretching just to the edge of pain, understanding it’s what Miles needed. Wishing Bass could somehow convince him it wasn’t what he _deserved_. It was a pointless battle though. One Bass had given up on fighting years ago, long before the power went out, back when they were still young and innocent enough to believe that life was good and things would always get better in the end. Now they both knew better. They both understood that not all stories had a happy ending, that the happy endings were mostly just a pause in the greater narrative.

Bass grasped the back of Miles neck and drew him in for a kiss, it was sloppy and wet and mess and more tongue and teeth than finesse, but it was perfect. Bass was now thrusting his hips up to meet Miles’ downward thrusts, their pace continuing to increase, some of the rhythm slacking as they both lost themselves in the sensation. Bass cupped the side of Miles’ face, his thumb stroking Miles’ cheek, wanting to give him the little comfort he could, knowing this wasn’t going to be enough. Bass broke the kiss, his breath harsh against Miles’ neck as he continued to snap his hips up in a fast staccato.

Miles reached between them and took his own dick in hand and began stroking himself. Bass batted his hands away and Miles glared, but Bass held Miles’ gaze until he saw the defiance fade out of Miles’ gaze. Something had been left out of the report he’d received. Something else had gone wrong in the fields at the edge of the Republic. Bass took Miles’ dick in his hand and squeezed slightly, just enough to get Miles’ attention.

“Are you mine?”

Miles just looked at Bass his eyes almost too blank. Bass stilled his hips, forcing Miles to stop moving as well. Miles tried to move his hips, wanting to reach the end, but Bass squeezed his dick even more, forcing Miles to stop as he hissed at the pain. Bass held Miles’ gaze even though he wanted to look away first, wanted to let Miles just get off, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t be a coward, he wouldn’t do that to Miles. Miles needed this right now, Miles needed him to be strong, to be in control. Bass rubbed his thumb across the head of Miles’ cock making Miles hiss for an entirely different reason this time.

“Are you mine?”

“Yes, sir.”

Bass thrust his hips up hard and Miles’ head fell backwards.

“Are you mine?”

Miles glared at him as he pushed himself down on Bass’ dick. Bass slowly resumed his pace, his grip on Miles’ dick loosening enough to allow for a smooth glide of his hand along Miles’ shaft.

“Yes, sir.”

Bass almost sighed in relief as he sped up the pace of his hips, not knowing how much longer he’d be able to hold back, but he would have. For Miles, he would have. Miles leaned forward, his arms gripping Bass’ shoulders for support as he continued to impale himself on Bass’ dick. Bass worked Miles’ dick, wanting to get him off before he came. He could feel the tension in Miles’ body and Bass latched his teeth onto Miles’ neck and bit down, marking him, owning him. It was then that he felt Miles’ come wet his hand and with a few more deep thrusts, he sent himself over the edge, enjoying the feel of Miles’ ass around him.

Miles collapsed boneless against him. Bass wrapped his arms around Miles’ back, cradling him to his chest. He ran his fingers up and down Miles’ spine, feeling his erratic breathing, waiting for Miles to come down from the orgasm. He felt Miles nuzzle against his neck and Bass brought his hands up to card his fingers though Miles’ hair. It was another favorite part for Bass, being able to offer comfort to Miles, being able to hold him. There were so many times over the years where Miles found him at his lowest, when Miles came and held him, helped keep the broken pieces together. Rarely did Miles allow him to return the favor, and Bass lived for the quiet moments when he could just hold Miles in his arms and feel like he was giving back to Miles, giving back in the relationship.

“I still want to go to war,” Miles whispered after an indeterminate period of time.

Bass chuckled and pressed a kiss to Miles’ head.

“I know. Just promise me you’ll wait until Tom comes back with more information. Don’t go off to war on impulse, not this time.”

Miles placed a kiss to Bass’ neck. “Whatever you say.”

It wasn’t a yes and it wasn’t a promise, but it was the closest Bass was going to get.

**~FIN~**  

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd so you know the drill.
> 
> And, I've never written bottom!Miles, so I hope it worked for you all.


End file.
